Through the Eyes of the Wicked
by Ninjawolf1313
Summary: Years have gone by since the Millenium Ring and Ryou was still working on piecing himself back together. He was content, safe and in control; something he went years without. Just when he thought he rebuilt his life his world shattered all over again, his nightmares brought back with the start of a strange storm."I'll show you the world...through the eyes of the wicked."
1. Chapter 1

**Since everyone responded so well to what little I did with Ryou in _Behind Blue Eyes_ I decided that I would give him his own, weird romance story. Unlike BBE this one will be a little different and less realistic but fun nonetheless. Let me know if I should continue!**

_"I'm prisoned, but believing._  
><em>Twisting my delusions, best beware.<em>  
><em>My peace can be deceiving.<em>  
><em>I'm steady in the deep end of despair.<em>  
><em>So far away, from safe and sound.<em>  
><em>I've lost control, I've lost control<em>

_Where do I run? Where do I run now?_  
><em>There's no easy way, no easy way out.<em>  
><em>When everything's come, when everything's come, undone.<em>  
><em>There's no easy way, no easy way, out." -Digital Dagger<em>**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>A small kind smile was on his face as he nodded at the strangers he passed by, not being bothered by those who ignored him but his smile widening for those who returned his gesture. While others rushed around him to get out of the light drizzle he maintained his casual pace, his expression never once wavering.<p>

Not even when other people on their way home from work began to hit him rudely as they ran away from the impending storm, the lightning flashing in warning and the Earth shaking as the thunder roared. Darkness was crawling across the sky like a shadow, a cold wind picking up from nowhere and stabbing at his exposed skin as brilliant, long snow colored hair whipped around him like a beacon of light meant to keep the darkness away.

Eyes the color of dark chocolate glanced up curiously at the sky, his feet slowing to a standstill as he watched the storm roll in, goosebumps forming on his ghostly pale skin.

"The weather channel said today was supposed to be sunny! What a crock," he heard an older woman complain as she ducked into a store he was standing near for shelter.

His smile finally began to twitch down as the cold seemed to seep through his very skin and coat his bones. He shivered, an atrocious feeling settling deep inside his gut. He swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to think too much on the odd weather. It was Japan after all; the weather wasn't always predictable and some forces were beyond explanation.

Yet his feet refused to move, not even when the streets became completely bare as the rain let loose in harsh streams. The sheer force burnt and left red whelps on his delicate skin. Within seconds he was soaked and shivering. He was completely alone.

Which would have been fine if he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched.

He looked around, shielding his eyes to try and see through the gray atmosphere but there was no use; there was no one else as far as he could see on the street with him.

With trepidation in each step he continued on his trek home, the need to be home where he felt safe and sound so strong that he didn't even consider going into a nearby store for shelter. The rain fell like knives around him, matching the pounding of his heart as the sky continued to roar and light up in chaotic anger.

After a moment he stopped again, his feet suddenly refusing to move as an icy wind blew over him nearly freezing him in his spot. He could feel something on his neck, almost like fingertips ghosting over his skin and sliding through his hair. Tears of fright and confusion gathered in his eyes as another gust of wind blew against his back, making him shiver all the way down to his toes.

He closed his eyes; it was all in his head. He was just making it up in his mind due to what happened in his younger years. He had moved on; he was stronger now; he was okay.

A tear slid out as the feeling didn't weaken, instead growing to the point that he could almost feel a body pressed behind him, the gust of wind turning into soft, slightly warmer breaths. In his mind he willed for it to go away, repeatedly telling himself it wasn't real, couldn't _be_ real.

There was no one else there with him.

"It's not real. It's not real," he started to mumble out-loud, more tears falling and being washed away by the rain that he could hardly feel hit him anymore. "Please leave me alone," he practically pleaded, his voice breaking on the word alone.

_"I told you I will never leave you alone."_

Almost like waking from a trance his eyes snapped open as he spun around, his eyes holding a wild light as he examined the empty space behind him like he was expecting to find the Boogie Man.

Perhaps he was looking for his own version.

He examined the rest of the street, no longer aware of the chill in his bones and the stinging of the rain. His body stiffened as he found something out of place; something that wasn't supposed to be there.

Out in the distance he could see it, something dark against the sea of the gray. A body; a man.

He began to run, ignoring the puddles and the slippery sidewalk. He needed to get home; once he was home everything would be okay. He ignored how his apartment building seemed to be coated in darkness, instead feeling relief as he trudged up to the third floor and unlocked the door.

He realized as he stepped through the threshold that the tears never stopped falling and his heart was still a shuttering mess in his chest. He had come so far to repair the damaged and scarred parts of himself. Everyday when he looked in the mirror he was reminded. It took years to even be able to hold his own gaze for more than a minute.

With a weary sigh he sluggishly took off his soaked shoes and jacket, leaving them by the door without a care as he entered his living room from the small entrance hallway.

He glanced around to make sure that nothing was amiss before entering his room and stripping off his clothes, throwing them into his laundry basket before crawling into bed without even drying his hair. He was tired from work and still very shaken not to mention cold.

A part of him realized that he shouldn't have been so tired, but the lure of sleep was too strong for him to ignore and question. His eyes flickered a few times, his mind trying to fight what his body was demanding. Something wasn't right; something was very, very wrong.

Under his sheets his bare body was still shivering, unable to warm up due to the cold that seemed to sink into his very skin.

As his eyes finally began to flicker shut he could feel a slight dip in his bed before warmth coated him from head to toe, forcing a relieved sigh to escape his lips. A small, aware part of him knew that it wasn't right, the none of it was right. He needed to open his eyes, he needed to turn on the light...

His body relaxed further into the warmth, the ache in his chest easing away before he fell in the darkness like it had been waiting for him the whole time.

Just before he lost consciousness he could have sworn strong arms had wrapped around him. He never had a chance to look.


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm not expecting this story to be very popular due to the dark theme and odd story line for a Yugioh ****story. It may also be a little confusing at some points. Regardless thanks to those who are following this story and took the time to let me know their thoughts! You guys are killer!**

"_I'm scared 'cause the past  
><em>_Keeps pulling me back  
><em>_Distorting the future  
><em>_It's holding me close  
><em>_It loves me the most  
><em>_It's tearing the sutures_

_It won't let me heal__**  
><strong>__It tells us what's real__**  
><strong>__There is no truth there__**  
><strong>__My vision's gone black__**  
><strong>__I'm scared 'cause the past__**  
><strong>__Keeps pulling me back__**" Digital Dagger**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two:<strong>_**  
><strong>_

_His eyes flickered open, his mind too scrambled to even remember his own name as he stared at the white ceiling above him. He blinked a few times as he sat up slowly, examining the unfamiliar and yet eerily familiar room._

_The space was oddly depressing and small, causing his lips to twitch into a frown at the pure feeling of loneliness radiating from the very walls. Saddened eyes examined everything silently as he looked over the pale white, empty walls, his eyes lingering on the slight discoloration that proved pictures at some point had been proudly displayed._

_Almost everything in the room was covered by a white sheet, the item's underneath hidden from view and abandoned. From his spot on the twin sized bed he was sitting on he could see dust coating the sheets and something about that made him want to cry._

_The only thing besides the bed that wasn't dusty, broken, or covered up was a strong mahogany bookshelf that was overflowing with books that he loved._

_Catcher in the Rye; Of Mice and Men; all his classic favorites were there in one place. _

_Not able to stop himself he stood up from the bed, the light wooden floor under his feet hard and cold. He stepped over to the bookshelf, running his fingers over the spine of the hundreds of book he had read and loved with his whole heart._

_He let out a drowsy sigh and turned away from the bookcase in favor of looking over the cluttered room that looked like more of a storage closet than a supposed bedroom. He approached the closest item that was covered by a sheet and pulled the piece of fabric back with a shaking hand, his eyes widening in pained surprise._

_It was his bicycle, his most beloved thing as a child. His fingers ghosted over the chipped blue paint, the metal rough under his touch._

_He used to always race his older sister Amane, swearing one day that he would beat her. They would go all over the neighborhood, her teasing laughter only making him more determined to become faster. Before he could...she was taken away. He hadn't touched a bike since._

_Blinking away the moister in his eyes he recovered the bike, unable to look at the rusty broken version of what used to be such a huge part of himself. The air was heavy in his lungs as he examined the room again, this time with new eyes._

_The bed was covered in a white sheet and pillow, matching the color of the walls and roof; the floor and the bookshelf was the only thing not lacking in color._

_Suddenly he didn't want to be...wherever he was anymore._

_Where exactly was he anyway? He didn't see any windows or doors. He was completely trapped, alone with reminders of memories he'd rather forget. He didn't need to look under the other sheets to know that's what he would find._

_With a heart barely keeping it all together he sat back down on the oddly soft bed, laying down on his side and turning his back to the rest of room as he stared blankly at the colorless wall. And he waited._

W~W~W~

When Ryou opened his eyes he allowed his dream _(or should he say memories?) _to wash over him like a tidal wave made to pull him under so he would drown. He remained still, his eyes heavy and breathing shallow as he remembered how he felt the first time he got trapped inside the Ring and his already fragile heart was threatened to fall apart completely.

Why he was dreaming of his time in the Ring with perfect clarity when it always seemed so hazy before was strange; almost as strange as the fact that he wasn't panicking about it. He was simply too drained ; too tired; too dizzy.

He knew without a doubt that he had fallen ill. Perhaps he shouldn't have walked through the storm and then left his hair soaked before going to bed...

He shuttered uneasily as he remembered the storm. His mind was simply overreacting, his imagination getting away from him,_ again_. He probably caught the flu from one of his co-workers and it just didn't fully hit him until now. Sickness has been known to make you delirious.

He already suffered from acute paranoia.

With a frustrated sigh he turned on his side, barely keeping himself from vomiting as the world began to spin. He groaned out in misery as he reached out to the phone sitting on the end table, his eyes barely making out the numbers as he dialed his work number.

He closed his eyes as it began to ring and he hoped that someone would answer before he either passed back out or was overwhelmed by the nausea.

Luckily it only took five rings instead of the usual ten or twenty.

"Thank you for calling Bank of Domino, this is Hana. How may I help you?"

If Ryou wouldn't have been so sick he would of rolled his eyes as his co-worker loudly popped gum into the phone. "Hi Hana, this is Ryou."

"Oh my Goodness Ryou, are you okay? Do you need me to come get you? Sammy, Ryou is in trouble!"

He groaned but for a different reason as he listened to his two female co-workers began to, at the same time, ask if he was okay and if he needed any help as they both fought over the phone. After five minutes of not being able to get a word in and feeling more sick than ever it suddenly fell quiet.

"Hello Ryou, is everything okay?"

He sighed in relief at the sound of his bosses voice. "Hello, Mr Fujimoto. I hate to do this but I woke up this morning really ill. I think I may have the flu or something like it."

"I see," his boss responded calmly. "Well, you have a week worth of sick time already saved up so work on getting better. If you can't make it in tomorrow give me a call."

"Thank you sir," Ryou responded as they both hung up.

His stomach was feeling uncomfortably hot and he knew without a doubt that he was actually going to vomit. As slowly as he could he pulled himself up from the bed, keeping his eyes closed so he didn't see the spinning of the room. He would need to make sure his temperature wasn't too high before crawling back in bed.

As steadily as he could he walked to his bathroom, keeping the lights off as he focused on keeping yesterdays lunch down. He grabbed his thermometer and a bottle of aspirin and sat down on the floor, his heated bare skin feeling relief from the coldness underneath him

Within moments he was vomiting in the toilet, unable to keep it down any longer and feeling even more dizzy from moving. It seemed like forever until he finally stopped, feeling drained, heavy and plain miserable. He rested his head against his bathtub, sticking the thermometer in-between his lips. He wasn't surprised when it said 101.1.

With shaky legs he stood, walking over to the sink to wash out his mouth. He took a couple of aspirin to help bring the fever down before grabbing his trashcan and stumbling his way back to bed. He was out before his head ever hit the pillow.

~W~W~W~

_He was back in the room. He didn't need to open his eyes to know, he could simply feel it. It left an odd ache in his chest, the empty feeling nearly unbearable. He couldn't remember how he got here and why one moment he was living his life just to blink and suddenly be...trapped again. He would wake up in bed in clothes he didn't remember ever putting on with hours missing from his memory._

_And a black trench-coat would be tossed carelessly on his floor each time. He didn't remember ever getting the jacket._

_Was he losing his mind?_

_Sometimes he would have bruises or wounds and if they were deep enough they would be bandaged with a careful hand. Usually they were all minor and few and far in-between. What was he doing within those lost moments of time?_

_He turned away from the wall and gazed out at the room. He had been trapped for so long and for so often that he had gone through all his books, still carefully ignoring everything covered up. He swallowed the lump in his throat and blinked away the wetness in his eyes._

_Before he even knew what he was doing he was kicking and tossing everything he could grab, tears falling in heavy streams down his face. He listened to things shatter and break, overpowering the sounds of his angry and pained filled sobs._

_He fell to his knees, surrounded by broken glass which he ignored. In front of him was a picture, somehow completely untouched by his sudden ire. It was a photo of himself, his mom, his father and his sister. It was the last picture they took before the car accident and his father ran away to everywhere but home and left a young Ryou to pick up the pieces._

_He looked happy, innocent; completely untouched by the cruelty of life. It took everything he had to find beauty in the things around him, to keep up with the rest of the world. He smiled, laughed, and a lot of people seemed to like him. But he couldn't ever escape the segregation that was between himself and everything else._

_The truth was, no one knew him. He was starting to wonder if he knew himself._

_He placed the picture back on the floor, turning it face down so he couldn't see the happy and loving smile of his parents and the mischievous glint in his sisters eyes. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the picture. Besides his bookshelf it was the only survivor, the only thing not broken which was funny considering his family was so destroyed it couldn't even be called one anymore._

_He buried his head in-between his knees, tears still falling steadily down his face and his body shaking with left over adrenaline. He hated this room; his prison; his punishment._

_He stiffened when the air shifted, somehow becoming warmer though he shivered in response. He lifted his head in confusion, blinking in wonder as he looked around the chaotic room. He could feel that something was different but everything appeared the same._

_He sat up on his knees and turned to look at the bed and suddenly he knew what was amiss. Sitting in the middle of the mattress was a book, one that he hadn't seen before but also seemed familiar. He stood and carefully made his way to it, curiosity replacing his earlier feelings of sorrow and anxiety._

_Gently he picked the book up, reading the title a good five times before sitting on the bed in surprise._

_"_

_To Kill a Mockingbird," he whispered to himself, before opening the book. It was another classic that he had been dying to read for a long time but never had a chance to. He remembered that his mom had a copy but forbid him from reading it, telling him it was much too adult for him. Where did it come from?_

_He looked around the room one more time, not sure what he was looking for but still feeling as if something was just...off. There was a certain...hotness in his mind. Kind of like a fire was burning though it didn't hurt. It was hard to explain, even to himself._

_With a sigh he turned his attention back to the book. His eyes scanning over the words uncertainly._

_Within moments his questions were forgotten as he lost himself in another world; a world where he didn't exist and neither did his past. What he wouldn't give to be trapped in a book that never ended..._

~W~W~W~

This time when Ryou opened his eyes he knew something was very, _extremely _wrong. He was burning up and God, his head _ached_. Actually, every part of him ached. For that matter, he hurt so badly he couldn't even move, his limbs refusing to obey his panicked attempts.

It was dark, almost unnaturally so. With an expression bordering on hysteria though he forced himself to remain calm he turned his head, his position on his back allowing him to see the shadows of blackness coating his walls. It was like black ink that dripped on white paper, and he watched as it spread out like fast acting poison until no white was left.

He wanted to close his eyes; to look away. He wanted to scream and turn on the light. He wanted to figure out why this was happening when he had finally put himself back together.

His mind went blank as a spot on the blackened wall, somehow darker among the sea of darkness, began to blur around the edges as it slowly took shape of a person.

And then it somehow separated from the rest of the shadows and began to come closer to him, his whole body shivering despite being so overheated. His eyes went wide in fear though his body remained frozen. His mouth was open in a silent scream as the tall shadow approached him slowly.

He recognized the rapid rise and fall of his chest but it felt as if no air was getting to his lungs. Tears fell from his eyes as he began to suffocate, his gaze still on the shadow as it drew near.

His eyes began to flicker, the tightness in his chest expanding to the point to where he felt as if his insides were going to explode. He was feeling faint but his body still refused to move no matter how badly he wanted it to.

_Leave me alone, _he wanted to scream but his voice refused to work no matter how hard he pleaded.

_"I told you I will never leave you alone," _a distant, distorted voice responded.

And then the shadow was looming over him...and then it was over.

Ryou shot up in bed, his skin covered in sweat and his chest heaving up and down as his lungs drew in air. He looked around with panicked eyes, noticing that his bed was messed up so badly that it looked like he had been thrashing around instead of stuck to his bed in fright.

Was it a dream? Or was there...something else that he missed? He couldn't escape the chill on his neck and the fear in his heart. It was like he was...felt like he was _dying_.

But the feeling from the shadow...he couldn't shake off the familiar feeling and yet it was also very different. Was the shadow the reason for his body's frightening moment of failure, or was it what allowed him to breathe again? Or was it just a dream, a way to wake himself up so he didn't suffocate in his sleep? He had heard of people waking up claiming that a black shadow was standing over them and it had been the cause of a sleeping issue they have. The mind worked in strange ways to protect the body after all.

He blinked as he turned his attention to his bed room door where he could see a light on that shouldn't have been.

He took a deep, uneasy breath as he slowly swung his legs to the other side of the bed. On shaky limbs he stood and headed towards the doorway, not even caring that he was still nude. He exited his room and peeked around the corner, his eyes zeroing in on his stove light that had magically somehow turned itself on.

He glanced around his living room and kitchen, making sure that there was no one else there with him. Maybe he was sleep walking and had turned it on. He had been very out of touch since he got home the night before.

Right when he was getting ready to turn back around he froze, his eyes landing on the notebook that shouldn't have been on his counter top. He slowly approached it, his lips drawn tight and his heart pounding unsteadily in his chest.

With a shaking hand he picked up the note pad only to drop it seconds later.

Wide, horror struck brown eyes stared at the bold writing on the stark white sheet of paper, clear as day and most definitely not his hand writing.

**_I will be waiting..._**


End file.
